advisable that I should remain at Norway House until my
successor, Brother Ruttan, arrived, and as there was only one
opportunity for a long time for Mrs Young and the children to return to
Red River, they availed themselves of it, poor and miserable as it was.

With loving "farewells" I wished them success on their journey, and saw
them off. Sandy Harte, our adopted Indian lad, and I sailed down to the
old Norway House, about twenty miles from our home, and there saying
"Good-bye," we returned to our lonely home.

Mrs Young had with her our three darling children, Eddie, Lilian, and
Nelly. All were well and full of the best of spirits as the sail was
hoisted, and we saw them glide away before the favouring gale. Precious
Nelly we never saw again. So terrible was the heat, and so miserable
were the accommodations in that little open boat, without deck or awning
or cabin, that the child sickened and died.

As we have referred to this sad event in an earlier chapter, we need not
dwell upon it here. What the poor mother felt and suffered as, sick
herself, she saw her beautiful child attacked by brain fever, and then
droop and die amidst surroundings so sad and trying, can be realised by
but few. God knows all about it. As mentioned, the venerable
Archdeacon Cowley's sympathy did much to raise up Mrs Young's crushed
spirits and dry her bitter tears.

I remained at Norway House until Brothers Ruttan and German arrived; and
then, after having spent a Sabbath with them, and seen Mr Ruttan and
his noble young wife cheerfully and hopefully entered upon their blessed
work among the people, to whom I had become very much attached, I
started off for Beren's River. Sandy Harte, the Nelson River lad, went
with me as far as my first camping place, and spent the night with me.
We read the sacred Word together, and then, after singing a Hymn, we
bowed in prayer. We lay down together, but we had so much to say, that
hours passed away ere we slept.

Early the next morning we were aroused from our slumbers by the cry of
"Fair wind," and so no time must be lost. I was very much surprised to
find that during the night some scores of Indians had come on in their
canoes from the Mission, although it was many miles away, to shake hands
with their Missionary once more, and say a final "Farewell."

After a hasty breakfast we assembled on the shore for prayers. We sang
in Cree a favourite hymn:--

"Jesus, my All, to heaven is